


Hands

by Petite_Madames_des_Chats



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canonical Child Abuse, Gen, Genderswap, Girl!Stiles, Magic, Prompt Fill, Witches, girl!Isaac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:56:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petite_Madames_des_Chats/pseuds/Petite_Madames_des_Chats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hand<br/>/hand/</p>
<p>Noun<br/>Plural noun: hands</p>
<p>1. The end part of a person's arm beyond the wrist, including the palm, fingers, and thumb.<br/>"the palm of her hand"<br/>synonyms:fist, palm;<br/>antonyms:	foot</p>
<p>From the Old English 'hand', 'hond', of Germanic origin; related to Dutch 'hand' and German 'Hand'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. This was supposed to be a few hundred words for the kinkmeme, to try and ease me back into writing for the first time in six years. Unfortunately, I seem pathologically incapable of doing things the easy way. So here's an odd six thousand words that held a knife to my throat and told me to type.
> 
> Anyway, like I said, I haven't done any writing in years. I'd love to hear some constructive criticism - I'd love it if you told me you liked it, but I'd rather you told me what you thought was good and what could be better. 
> 
> Lastly, this story - as the tags suggest - deals with a teenage boy who has been turned into a girl. Some of his thoughts and perceptions of what that means are not always...complimentary. These thoughts begin to resolve themselves during the story, but are not explicitly resolved.

For the kinkmeme prompt, [here](http://tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/4905.html?thread=704809&#t704809).

 

* * *

Isaac stared down at his new hands. They were small, and slender, and his fingers were much longer than they used to be too. His wrists looked ridiculously small, and he wrapped his thumb and forefinger around one, and measured it. He then held the measurement up in the air, and his heart sank. His wrist fit into a gap between his fingers that was less than ten centimetres in diameter.

When Scott had pulled him to his feet earlier, he hadn’t even come up to his shoulder.

He had spent all his life feeling small. Feeling threatened. Wanting to be stronger. But then, while he was cowering in that grave, Derek had walking into his life, and given him everything he ever wanted. All of a sudden, he was strong, he could heal, he could run. And while a small part of him regretted that he hadn’t been able to use that strength to protect his father, the greater part of him knew that the strength he had gained was to protect him _from_ his father. And while things hadn’t been puppies, sunshine and roses at first, being a part of Derek’s pack was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And with Gerard Argent dead, or missing, or whatever had happened to him, things had just kept getting ever better.

A few days after Jackson had stopped being a murderous revenge creature, Stiles had dragged Scott, by the ear, and stood out the front of the depot until Derek stormed out. It had been hilarious to watch; Scott being prompted on every stage of his apology to Derek, looking firmly at the ground, pushing out words and barely stopping himself from growling every time Stiles forced him to continue. It had ended with Scott and Stiles agreeing to come back for the full moon in just a coupe of days.

The full moon itself had resulted in Scott accepting Derek as his alpha. Isaac hadn’t realised that there was a difference between being with or without an alpha during that time, but according to Scott, the difference in his control was so huge that even he was willing to accept that he needed Derek. And that was apparently a pretty big deal, because he heard Stiles say to Derek, after Scott had headed home, that he’d expected much more resistance from Scott. And the idea that Derek and Stiles were working together behind Scott’s back was fascinating. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard that conversation, but Derek had to have known he was there.

Stiles and Scott joined in on the search for Erica and Boyd. Erica had called Derek while they were busy with Gerard, leaving a short, panicked message asking for help. The search had initially been hopeless, but once Stiles tracked down the payphone that Erica had used, they found a vague trail. They lost it again once they got to a residential street and had been about to give up hope, when Stiles had decided they were going to search every empty house in the area. He used real estate agent’s sites to track down the houses, and then the wolves would go and check it out.

But they were having no luck at all, and when they had crossed off every house nearby, they’d had no choice but to go back to searching aimlessly. After a couple of days, Stiles had asked Isaac to come with him to double check a couple of the houses that had been on that original list. And that was where the trouble started.

It was the third house they tried. Stiles had taken one look at it, and said;

“They’re here, it’s this one.” Isaac had only just managed to shoot off a quick message to Derek before Stiles was crouching by the mountain ash that ran in a perfect line under the hedges.

“I have no idea how we missed that.” He said, and Stiles looked back at him with a shrug.

“The whole place is drenched in magic. You guys had no hope of noticing anything.

That was the last thing Isaac remembered before waking up in the basement, Scott leaning over him with wide eyes. Everything was blurry, and he felt really weird. Scott had helped him to his feet, and when he’d managed to find his balance for long enough to feel that something was wrong with his body, he looked down.

And realised he had boobs.

It took him a good few moments to process what he was seeing, because he was kind of seeing four boobs, not two, but when his vision cleared up, they were still there. He poked one. Definitely real. And that lead to the next thought, and he couldn’t actually feel his dick, so he reached down. And there was definitely nothing there.

Derek had tried to keep Stiles calm while they drove to Deaton’s clinic, although that was pretty much a waste of energy. Fortunately, the level of fuss he made drew attention away from Isaac, so he was left in relative peace. Peter had given him one or two concerned glances, but other than that, everyone’s attention was on Stiles, and the rescued Erica and Boyd.

Deaton had dealt with the situation with the normal level of aplomb. Erica and Boyd were checked up first, and he declared them magic free, needing nothing more than a few good meals and a shower. Unfortunately, it was not so simple for him and Stiles. Deaton asked a number of questions while he examined Stiles, but they had very little in the way of information form him.

“So there was a large amount of white powder on and around them?” Deaton finally asked as he took Isaac’s pulse.

“Yeah. No writing on the floor, no books, no blood, nothing but this white powder.” Said Scott. Deaton finished his much shorter examination of Isaac, and then looked at them all.

“Well, I’m afraid the answer is that it’s permanent.” He said, and when Stiles went to lose his mind, Deaton held up a hand to quieten him. “For the most part, anyway. It is actually quite easy to change a body’s sex, at least, the first time. It requires a good deal of power, but it is not complex. What the witch was after was all the energy that bleeds off the subject while the transformation is happening. The physical change in your body not only makes your own, innate energy flare, but it flares up all the energy in the area around you. Whatever working the witch intends to do obviously needs an exceptional amount of power.” The man turned around and started packing up the room again. Isaac might have been a little insulted, but he was too invested in what Deaton was saying.

“It is possible to change the body back to it’s original sex, however, it is a much more difficult working, and requires even more power than the first change. It also cannot be done until the body’s energies have settled into their new form, which usually takes one to three years.”

Stiles is protesting, asking questions about different things that Isaac doesn’t understand – Stiles has been working with Deaton, learning to use his magic, so he is asking questions about different types of energy, and theories, technical stuff that goes over Isaac’s head. He doesn’t even bother listening, really. He heard Deaton’s heartbeat. It’s been steady as a rock since he got over his surprise at seeing two boys who’d be turned into girls. So Isaac looks at his hands again. It had been nice being strong. Being able to protect himself. But he guessed it must just be his fate to be small and weak. At the mercy of others. So he crosses his arms, and then uncrosses them, because he really can’t quite deal with the way his breasts press into his forearms. It feels vaguely like he’s groping someone, even if they are his breasts.

“What we really need to know is what this witch is going to do with all this power. Is she going to keep doing this to people?” Derek asks, and Isaac’s kind of grateful that they’ve moved on to a different topic.

“Unlikely. An ordinary person’s transformation doesn’t provide much energy, because they have very little energy in them. Wolves have significantly more, and Isaac probably has the most; I wouldn’t be surprised if you could cast the few spells that your kind can. Stiles, of course, is pretty much the strongest magic user in Beacon Hills, as well as the least defended. By that I mean, the least trained. There are two others who are untrained, but they have nothing like what Stiles and I have.” And that was certainly a couple of interesting bits of information. Deaton almost never gave away any details about himself, and the idea that Stiles was stronger than Deaton was definitely news to Stiles, judging by the look on his face.

“She’s taken the two most valuable people already. I doubt she’ll need more.”

“What about that white powder? Do we need to worry about that at all?” Scott asked. Deaton gave a small smile, the kind he always gave when he was going to explain something disgusting involved in the care of animals.

“No. The powder is actually dead cells from their bodies. The transformation doesn’t just happen instantly. It’s a very physical process, just condensed into a short period of time. It’s why they both have shoulder length hair; they both experienced about a year and a half, maybe two years of growth. Physically, their bodies are between eighteen to nineteen now.”

Stiles demanded that they take a couple of books with them, hoping to find a way to change back before his dad comes home sometime next week. Isaac thinks Stiles is just kidding himself. He should be thinking up ways to break the news to his dad, not pretending it isn’t real. Then again, everyone else seems to think it’s the right thing to do, so he just goes along for the ride.

When they get back to the depot, Erica digs a sports bra out of her bag and gives it to him.

“It’s probably going to be a bit small, you’re a lot bigger than me. Better than nothing though.” He stares at it for a minute before he heads for the section he had claimed as his own. Getting changed is an exercise in curiosity. Everything about his body is different. Sure, his legs are still legs and everything, but it’s not as if everything just shrunk. The shapes, the proportions are all different, and he can’t help but run his hands over everything to feel the difference.

The lack of hair is startling. Not that he’s suddenly hair-free, but what hair there is, is fine and soft. His body _feels_ softer as well. Where his thighs were once just muscle, they’re now softer under his hands. There’s definitely still a ton of muscle, but the layer of fat over the top makes them much nicer to look at. He runs his hands over his butt as well, and it’s the same story there. His abs seem to be gone, though when he runs his hands over his stomach he can still feel them.

He pulls off his shirt, and gets his first look at his boobs. They’re probably the most disconcerting part of the change. They’re big, for starters, and, well, they _move_. There are things _moving_ on his _chest._ The rational part of his brain suggests that maybe this is the equivalent of a dick and balls, but he completely ignore that thought in favour of touching them. He remembers his mother having an…ample chest (because he really doesn’t want to think that much about his mother’s breasts), so he guesses that would probably be right. They’re soft, really soft, both the skin and the way they feel when he squeezes gently. When he squeezes a little harder, he can feel a lot of little lumps, and that’s really weird, even compared to the fact that he now _has boobs_ , so he stops right there.

His adam’s apple is gone, and then his hands are on his face. The biggest difference is in his jaw. It’s definitely a bit smaller, and when he covers his lower face, the whole thing just feels pointier. Nothing else feels much different though. He puts the bra on, and having his boobs more…confined, he supposes, makes him a lot more comfortable. Once he’s fully dressed, he grabs his phone out, and turns on the camera to get a look at his face.

He immediately wishes he hadn’t, because it’s painfully close to looking at a picture of his mother. He drops the phone and buries his head in his hands, trying desperately to stop the tears that are building, but it’s almost impossible to hold it back. Erica makes her way in slowly, giving him every chance to tell her to leave, but when he doesn’t, she comes and sits next to him on the mattress, pressing up against his side, the same way she always has. Erica isn’t really a comforter, or a nurturer. That’s Isaac’s job, really, and he likes it that way. But he likes that she tries, that she does what she can, and right now having someone with him while he cries is enough.

* * *

The next morning, Derek’s back from researching all night with Stiles. He does give Isaac an odd look before he passes out face down on his mattress, but Isaac chalks it up to the fact that he now looks like a delicate little flower. If he had to be female, it would have been nice to have at least been a normal size, and have looked strong, like Erica. Instead he looked all fragile and feminine.

Erica took him shopping after that, lending him an outfit so that he didn’t look too out of place (he hated that he had to roll up the ends of the jeans three times) dand they were surprised to find that shopping together was actually kind of fun. Isaac had never been allowed to go shopping for himself; his father had refused to spend money on clothes for him, so he’d only ever had hand-me-downs. Derek had bought him the leather jacket and a few shirts, but Isaac wasn’t there when he bought them.

It was nice, being able to run his fingers over all the fabrics, and the running commentary that Erica had going was fun to listen to, it took his mind off the whole situation.

In the end, they bought him a pair of jeans and three shirts, because he could get away with wearing jeans for a while without washing them, and he had to buy shirts because he was wearing the loosest shirt Erica had left that wasn’t a pyjama top, and it was still stretched over his chest. They got a cheap pair of flats for him, because his feet were ridiculously small, and last stop was the underwear store.

Isaac tried not to look too much like a fish out of water, but he probably didn’t succeed. Finding the right size was an unpleasant business, but it could have been worse – one of the shop assistants had offered a free fitting, but Erica had shooed her away, and after having tried on a least ten different ones, they figured out a size, which Erica told him was unfairly small in the back (although he disagreed, because apparently he was small enough in the back that three quarters of the store didn’t come in that size) and unfairly large in the cup.

They bought him two in the end. One was just a soft sport bra, with no _underwire_ , and the other was a _t-shirt_ bra. He hadn’t really followed Erica’s longwinded explanation of women’s underwear, because he was just too overwhelmed by the whole process.

Absurdly enough, the shop assistant who had offered to help them before was the assistant manager, and asked Erica to come back with a resume. Erica discussed it a bit with her, while Isaac mindlessly paid (with Derek’s credit card). He just wanted to sit down with a hot chocolate in a quiet café and process a little. Erica shoved him into a bathroom stall to get changed first though, and when he comes out, he looks at himself in the mirror and can’t make up his mind. A part of him hates how small, delicate and pretty he looks. The other part of him loves it.

He holds on to the hate, because he’s not quite sure what to do with the other part. Something must show on his face or in his scent, because Erica gives him one of those looks again, but she stays quiet until they get into one of the booths at the very back of their favourite café.

“How are you doing?” She asks, delicately eating the foam off her hot chocolate with a spoon.

“It’s weird. I can deal with the whole-” he waved his hand in the general direction of his chest, “body, I guess. I just…” He looked at the table, and draws a slightly shakey breath.

“I look so much like my mom.” Erica leans back against the booth wall, wry smile on her face.

“Well, that explains a lot, I guess.” It’d come out one night, after a particularly brutal training session. How his dad had been something of a drunk, but more importantly just an absent parent most of Isaac’s childhood. His mom had been the centre of his world, and losing her when he was twelve had basically shaken him to the core. When they lost Cam less than a year later, his dad had broken too, and it was the third night in a row that Isaac had lain in bed crying, that his father had first locked him in the freezer.

“She must have been hellishly hot.” He looks at her, completely befuddled. Aside from the fact that he never really wanted to think of his mom as being sexually attractive, he was also confused as to what Erica thought she was seeing.

“What do you mean, hot?” He asked. Erica narrowed her eyes briefly before giving one of her trademark smirks.

“Look at you. That body is banging. If we put you in a little dress and some heels, messed up that hair, you’d have guys walking into walls as you went past.”

“Yeah right. I look like a fifties housewife.” Erica laughed at him, but didn’t push the issue any further.

* * *

The next day was Monday, and Isaac had all day to be grateful that it was summer, and they had another six weeks before school went back to deal with their situation. Showering was an interesting experience, because he had to wash himself in places he’d never had before - he’d kind of skipped over that part yesterday, because he was too chicken, but putting it off any longer was just getting kind of gross. He was a little tempted to try out his new parts, but he had no intention of doing so while everyone else could hear. It hadn’t really been an issue before, because it was just a part of living with that kind of hearing. But there was something about exploring a whole new body that made him feel like he wanted to be truly alone.

So he just let himself enjoy the warm water; what Derek had needed to do to get hot water running here he didn’t know, but he was mind-blowingly grateful

Sitting outside in a pair of track pants and one of the tank tops they bought yesterday, he realised he had no idea what to do. Erica and Boyd had gone somewhere together. He couldn’t really go and visit any of the lacrosse team. Scott was still bouncing around the Stilinski house, ostensibly to help Stiles research, but it was more than likely he was just getting in the way. Maybe dragging Scott out of the way could be his contribution to the effort. Which he still thought was useless, but doing something useless was still more interesting than doing nothing.

When Derek sat down across from him, it actually startled him a little. He’d known Derek was there, of course, but he’d expected the alpha to keep going. Derek, as usual, was silent for quite a while, staring pensively at him. It was pushing on five minutes before he said anything.

“You don’t think it’s reversible, do you?” He asked, and Isaac shook his head.

“Deaton knows what he’s talking about. And he wasn’t lying.” Derek nods.

“I thought the same. But Scott and Stiles are pretty certain they can fix it. I don’t want to get them down, just in case they can, but…” He trailed off. The sentence didn’t really need finishing. Isaac looks down at his little hands again.

“This doesn’t make you weak, you know.” Derek says, and Isaac looks at him in surprise. But then again, this is Derek. More importantly, this is _his_ Derek. To the others, Derek is the alpha. He’s brusque, rough and unreachable – overprotective, in a paternal kind of way. But before they all came around, it was just Derek and Isaac, with no other family between them.

_His_ Derek was like an older brother. An older brother who knew what was going on in his head, even when he didn’t really know himself.

“I just feel like, I finally got strong enough to protect myself. And now I’m fucking tiny.”

“You actually remind me of my cousin, Elizabeth. She was about your size, and looked pretty and dainty as well.” Derek tugged on some of the hair that had fallen onto Isaac’s face. “She was about ten years older than me. She was a negotiator, or a mediator, or whatever the situation called for, so she travelled all the time, visiting different packs and helping out with that kind of stuff. One time, she caught up to some hunters who’d kidnapped two kids they were going to use to test stuff on. She ripped all ten of them to pieces so violently that the police in Oregon are still actively hunting her.”`

“You’ve got to remember, female wolves have a much higher pain threshold. They run faster, and they heal faster. You were already nearly as fast as me. I doubt I’d have a chance of catching up now. You don’t need brute strength if no one can catch you in the first place.” He’s not sure if it’s the words, or just Derek’s presence, but he does feel a lot better about everything than he did before. He likes the idea of being uncatchable.

“Thanks.” He says and Derek ruffles his hair as he goes past.

* * *

In his head, he gave Stiles until Friday. Then he was buying more clothes

Lydia, however, had other plans.

It was Wednesday, and Isaac had spent the last few days obsessively cleaning and tidying their roughshod home. Derek had come back home Tuesday night to finding him lining up the crockery, and had explained to him that Derek thought that the realignment of his body from male to female had probably also realigned his instincts. Most wolves were instinctually fighters, as Isaac had been. But there were also, as Derek called them, _den-makers_ , and apparently there were a lot less of them, because there really wasn’t a need for many.

Derek had to explain, multiple times, that this didn’t mean that Isaac couldn’t fight anymore. It just meant that his fighting instincts would be more geared towards protecting their home. Derek had, also, explained that it had nothing to do with gender. Scott, apparently, was also a _den-maker,_ but because he denied his instincts so strongly, it wasn’t noticeable

He’s pretty sure Derek’s the one who landed him with Lydia the next day.  She sends him a text at eight, telling him to be at her place by quarter to nine. And this is Lydia, queen of the passive aggressive smack down, and potentially his greatest ally when school starts again, so he’s not only there on time, but he asks Jackson what coffee she drinks, and buys her double ristretto latte when he buys himself a hot chocolate.

Shopping with Lydia is not as laid-back as with Erica. She’s a red-headed whirlwind, blasting through shops while she tries to find a style for him. She seems to like putting him in things with ruffles, ‘froufy things’ she describes them as. But they look silly with his boobs, and she gives up eventually, and starts bringing him simpler things. He’s not sure if they’re less fashionable things, but he likes how they look, and so does she, so he ends up with bags full of simple little dresses, and flowing knee length skirts, which do make him think a little of the fifties. He refuses to wear anything that is any more than a few inches above the knee, and Lydia makes some very amusing frustrated noises when she tries to get him into various pairs of little denim shorts. He also refuses to touch anything yellow or orange, but is happy to try on florals and pinks and purples. She makes sure he gets a few lose tops, but they mostly stick to _structured_ pieces for his top half. His favourite is a silky cream blouse, with a soft collar that drapes around his throat, and little gold buttons. He also refuses to buy heels, although Lydia does manage to get him to try a few pairs on.

Erica sulks when he gets back, which she says is because she wanted to go with him. He knows it’s a little bit because she doesn’t have the cash to buy so much at once, but Lydia just refused to say no to the point where she had paid for everything from the second shop onwards. He promises her that he’ll get Derek to give them his card sometime soon so they can go and buy a bunch of clothing for her.

But that’s after they go through everything he brought home.

* * *

He goes to see Stiles on Friday, where it becomes obvious that Stiles has been running himself into the ground trying to find a solution. He’s got dark shadows under his eyes, her hair is a mess and she smells like she hasn’t showered in two days.

“Isaac?” He says, eyes wide and shocked. Isaac realises, a little to late, that he probably makes quite a strange picture to Stiles. He’s wearing one of his dresses, navy blue with cherries, with a pair of red flats, and Alison had cut a heavy fringe for him yesterday, which she says makes his eyes look huge. He thinks it just looks like a fringe, but maybe that’s one of those girl things he’s got to learn.

But Stiles hasn’t seen him since they were dragged out of the basement, and judging by her expression, the transformation is dramatic. He gives a small smile, and tucks his hair behind his ear the way he’s seen other girls do when they’re nervous.

“Wow. Um, hi. Wow.” Isaac laughs, because at least Stiles is still Stiles. He grabs him by the shoulders, and pushes him out of his bedroom.

“Go shower, you stink.”

While Stiles is showering, Isaac stares at the room. He has to strain to stop himself from tidying, but once he looks past the mess and starts seeing the evidence of how much work Stiles has done, he begins to feel guilty. There are open folders and books everywhere. The bed is three books deep, with a gap where the reader was sitting. There’s a massive pile of printouts on the end of the desk, and he knows that Stiles has probably done massive amounts of work that will never make it off the computer.

Stiles wanders back in, towel wrapped around him, and Isaac gets something of a look at his body. He’s much taller than Isaac, having only lost three or four inches when he changed. He’s also made of straighter lines, less soft muscle and more coltish limbs. When he turns around, Isaac can see that he does have substantive breasts, they’re just not well revealed by the t-shirts he’s clinging on to.

He still thinks that it’s a waste of time, but he goes checks out the patch of the Preserve that Stiles asks him to check for the witch. He assumes that he’ll find nothing. He remembers later on that such thoughts are a lovely way to ensure he will.

* * *

Its twilight when she stumbles across the witch. She takes one look at the drawings on the ground, the herbs, the blood and howls for her pack. The witch casts a spell that slams her up against the nearest tree, and ropes spin around her, so tight that she can’t get enough leverage to break free.

“Fuck, stupid wolf. At least I’m nearly done.” Swearing turns into mutter words that certainly aren’t English, and then the circle glows, spinning round her, then suddenly moving, like it was all sucked into her body at once.

She bursts into tears, mumbling, ‘it worked, it worked’ into her hands. And then she just gets up and leaves, walking away from Beacon Hills, and toward the national forest that backs onto the Preserve.

Less than five minutes later, Erica and Derek arrive, Peter close on their tails. They untie him, and sit around waiting for Stiles to get here so he can look at the remains of her spell. Peter thinks it’s a fertility ritual; Stiles eventually confirms that.

She just sits against the tree and stares at the stars while the rest of them have a heated debate about something. Peter eventually comes over and sits next to her. The other’s all think Peter’s creepy, and Stiles, Scott and Lydia won’t go within ten feet of him. But she wasn’t around for all the stuff that happened before Derek became alpha, and this Peter means well. Sure, the undead thing is a little odd, but he’s nice to her, and he doesn’t lie, his scent is never duplicitous, and he has a fantastic sense of humour. She likes to think of him, privately, as something like an uncle.

“You don’t seem particularly worked up over the whole situation.” He says. She shrugs half-heartedly.

“It doesn’t seem worth getting worked up over. It can’t be changed, so why waste energy on it.” She replies, and he gives one of those calculated grins he does, mostly because he likes to disconcert everyone. She smiles back genuinely, the way she always does. She only did it at first because it confused the crap out of Peter, but it’s kind of become a habit between them.

“I think it’s a bit more than that.” He protests gently, and his eyes are a bit more knowing than she’d really like, but then again, she gets the feeling that everyone knows a bit more than she’d really like. No one’s contested all her clothes shopping. Erica had sat down and played around with make up with her last night. She hadn’t been made to help with the research for a solution.

“Yeah.” She looks down at her hands, then into the forest, away from Peter. “I don’t mind being like this. It’s…kinda nice.” She doesn’t look back at Peter, but he bumps his shoulder against hers, and they sit quietly to wait out whatever it is that the others are trying to do.

* * *

The next day, she sits down with Peter, Derek, and Danny Mahealani, who is apparently aware of the supernatural, but choosing to be as uninvolved as possible. They laid out all her paperwork: birth certificate, bank accounts, social security number, and plot out how they are going to make her exist on paper.

“What name are you going to use?” Derek asked.

“Isa. It’s close enough to Isaac that it will be really easy to get used to.” She says, and Danny hacks into the Births, Deaths and Marriages Registry, and Isaac Lahey becomes Isa Thayer – it was her mother’s maiden name. They changed her father to ‘unknown’ to try and disconnect her from Isaac . Changing her details through Social Security was apparently a bit more difficult, because they also had to shuffle her file from one social worker to another, but Danny seemed to handle it all just fine. They left her bank accounts as they were, deciding the best thing to do would be to go in and establish a whole new set of accounts, and transfer everything later.

For her school records, they decided to create home school records. Isaac Lahey dropped out, and Isa transferred in for her Junior year. Pretending to be a new student was definitely going to be strange, even on their scale of the bizarre.

Later on, she overheard Derek telling Peter about how badly Stiles was coping with the situation. Apparently things had not gone well with his dad, and he…she… _Stiles,_ was staying at Scott’s for the moment. Derek was still hopeful that they could convince the Sheriff to play along with their plan for Stiles, which was to set her up as a cousin from Poland. Stiles could, apparently, speak Polish, and more importantly, was comfortable speaking with a Polish accent.

The next week Derek dragged her and Stiles to the McCall household, where they were sat down at the kitchen table while Derek and Scott made themselves scarce. And Melissa gave them the longest sex talk in the history of the world. Stiles had seemed to be getting more comfortable with the whole female thing, she had even been wearing women’s jeans, but the discussion of internal parts and pregnancy and periods seemed to push her right back to square one. Isa, however, was really curious about pregnancy. The idea of being able to grow something in her body was fascinating.

When she got back, she made a point of asking Derek, in front of Peter, about whether she could use the pill as a werewolf, and whether or not their pregnancies were any different. After all, the talk with Melissa had been important, but also embarrassing, and she wasn’t afraid to dish some of that back. Peter had laughed while Derek blushed and mumbled his way through his answers.

Lying in bed that evening, she stared at her hands. They were small, with long fingers and tiny nails. The bones and tendons and veins she could see on the back of them looked fragile and delicate. She wondered if any of her mother’s rings would fit. Maybe they didn’t look as strong as they had before, but these hands had always been werewolf strong. She had never seen these hands thrown up in front of her to protect her face from broken glass. She’d never used these hands to clean up the blood and vomit her father would leave behind after a bad night. She’d never scraped these nails bloody on the sides of a freezer.

She didn’t have any nightmares that night.

 


End file.
